


Interim

by PandaTurtle333



Series: S.O.S. [9]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Depression, Horror, Loss, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaTurtle333/pseuds/PandaTurtle333
Summary: ***Warning*** No graphic detail. However, content may be disturbing to some. Reader discretion is advised. Takes place between books two and three of the S.O.S. series.
Series: S.O.S. [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1229975
Kudos: 4





	1. 01

Anna walked through the forest, her mind in a daze. She couldn’t feel the cold, or the aching in her lungs. She could only feel the pain in her heart. She stumbled over an exposed tree branch. She didn’t bother trying to regain her footing, simply falling in a heap on the ground. She rolled over and stared past the dead trees reaching up into the sky.

_Their feet carried them through the forest at a slow pace, having stopped running once the sounds of the walkers chasing them faded into the distance. Anderson and Anna were alone, accompanied only by the sounds of their footsteps crunching along the forest floor._

_Anderson stopped, grunting as he leaned against a tree._

_“What’s wrong?” She asked, stepping towards him._

_He held his hand out, silently stopping her in her tracks. She saw the blood on his hand and her heart sank._

_“Anderson?”_

_He slid down the tree, turning his body so he was sitting against the trunk, his head leaned back as he stared at her._

_“I can’t go any further,” he explained._

_“Bullshit!” Anna snapped, storming forward and yanking his arm around so that she could see his injury._

_There, through the blood-stained flannel shirt, was a single bite._

_“No.” she whispered, taking a step back. She shook her head, covering her mouth. “No.”_

Anna felt the pinch of her Beretta at her hip and pulled it out. She checked the clip. Three bullets left.

_“Take it, please.” He held the gun out to her, leveling her with a tired gaze. He heaved a sigh. “I need you to shoot me, Anna.”_

_“You can’t ask me that,” she whispered, choking on her words. “I can’t….”_

_“You’re gonna have to get used to it sooner or later.” He pushed the gun into her hands. “Please – Don’t let me turn into one of them.”_

_The cold metal of the .45 burned her skin._

Anna sat up, pulling her Beretta into her lap, and staring at the gleaming black metal.

_“Always save one bullet,” Anderson said._

_Anna shook her head. “Don’t say that,” she snapped. “Don’t—"_

_“You need to listen to me, Anna,” he said urgently, cutting her off. “Always save one bullet in case… in case you get overrun.”_

_Anna nodded. She could already see the light fading from his eyes._

_“Please, there’s not much time.”_

_Anna’s hands shook as she steadied the gun, aiming the muzzle at his forehead. He leaned forward._

_“Live.”_

Anna placed the muzzle of her Beretta against her temple. There weren’t any more tears for her to shed. No more pleas or prayers. There was just pain.

She hovered her index finger over the trigger.

_May you live all the days of your life._

Her finger lifted off the trigger.

_“Live.”_

That was all he had asked her to do in the end. To keep living. She stared at the bracelet around her wrist, the cold metal shining in the dim sunlight.

A twig broke behind her. She scrambled to her feet, training the gun on whoever had approached her.

“What do we have here?”

She took in the sight of four strange men and three rifles trained on her.

The man who had spoken walked forward, his dirty blond hair falling onto his forehead. He was beautiful, to say the least, but the smile he gave her was predatory. Anna took a step back, her hand shaking on the gun.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, her voice wavering.

“You’re not gonna shoot me,” the man said.

“I will,” Anna insisted. “I—”

He gently pushed away the gun, and she dropped it to her side.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, reaching up and brushing his thumb over her right cheek.

Anna shivered under his appraising gaze, his hands going to his rifle as he walked around her. As he came around to her other side, she looked to him only for everything to go black.

* * *

“What’s this? Shiny.”

The man grinned as he unclasped the bracelet from around Anna’s wrist. She was too out of it and in too much pain to fight back. The last thing she remembered was the butt of a gun heading straight for her face, and she could feel something cold and sticky tickling her forehead.

“‘May you live all the days of your life’ – Jonathan Swift. How cute. Your daddy give this to you?”

Anna reached out and tried to take the bracelet back, but he pulled it away, taunting her. She tried to sit up, to get a better angle on the bracelet just out of her grasp when a stinging pain radiated from between her thighs.

She let out a whimper, too weak to scream. She fell forward, her hip digging into the ground and her forehead pressed to the cold dirt, her body twisted painfully. She stared at the ground, feeling the Earth beneath her, desperately trying to deny the truth.

“Give it back,” she cried.

* * *

She stumbled along beside the man as he pulled her by the arm, trying to wriggle her way free. It was no use; his grip was like a vise as he led her into the camp. He tossed her toward a beat up, rundown car, and she fell just before she could catch herself on it.

“Get up,” he said.

She stared up at him defiantly.

“Do as your told, and we won’t have any problems,” he warned. “Now… get up.”

He didn’t take out his gun and aim it at her; he simply waited. With nothing else to do, she got to her feet. She still ached and her legs were unsteady, but she stood at her full, unassuming height, glaring at him.

His companions gathered around, one of which held her inhaler close to his face to read the number on the back.

“She’s got, like, five left,” he said.

The first man, and obvious leader of the group, held his hand out for the inhaler. He glanced at the back and pulled the medicine canister out, reading the prescription.

“Asthma?” He asked.

Anna said nothing.

“We’ll hold onto this in case you need it,” he said, passing it to a different man.

Anna watched him take the inhaler and tuck it into his front, right pocket before her eyes went to his face. He was handsome, with brown hair and eyes, his nose upturned just a bit at the end. He hadn’t been with the others when they found her, when they—she stopped herself before her thoughts went too far and turned her focus back to the leader.

He was maybe the same age as her brother, with a chiseled jaw and sculpted nose. He brushed his dirty blond hair away from his forehead, and she spotted her bracelet around his wrist and her hunting knife on his hip.

He caught her looking at the bracelet and smirked at her.

“I’ll be holding onto this, too,” he said, a laughing note to his voice. “Open the car door behind you,” he instructed, gesturing toward her.

Grinding her teeth, she glanced around the camp. She counted at least thirty men, all armed and all staring at her. There was not a damn thing she could do to get away, and so, she turned and pulled the back, passenger door open.

“Get in,” he said.

She climbed inside, sitting in the seat and looking at him as he walked up to her. He braced himself against the door and leaned toward her, a condescending smirk on his stupid, beautiful face.

“That blindfold—” he said, nodding past her.

She looked over to see a long strip of cloth sitting on the seat beside her.

“Put it on,” he said.

“No,” she said firmly, returning to glaring at him.

His lips twitched a moment and his hazel eyes darkened. She could see the muscles in his arms flex before relaxing.

“Put it on,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

She felt a chill dart up her spine, her eyes flicking to her hunting knife strapped to his hip.

“Or what? You gonna kill me?” She asked, feigning strength.

The smirk on his face shifted into a look of concern, his brows furrowing.

“Why would I kill you?” He asked. “I saved you.”

“Saved me?” She snapped, her heart pounding in her chest and her skin heating with anger.

“Yes. So, now you owe me. All of us, really,” he said, standing back. “And you’ll repay that debt. In time.”

With that, he slammed the door shut and walked off. The other men stared at her in the car for a moment before they returned to their business. All except the man who held her inhaler in his pocket. He stared at her through the window, standing a good twelve feet back, his face grim before he, too, finally walked away.

* * *

She felt like a popsicle. The sun had gone down and she had no real protection from the cold in the back of the car. She might as well have been stuck inside a freezer. Her fingers were numb, and she was certain the rest of her body would soon follow if she stopped bouncing her legs.

Outside, the men milled about, talking and eating their dinner. Anna’s stomach growled, but the very thought of eating made her throat close up.

She jumped when the car door opened—she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. Quickly, she scrambled to the other side of the car, putting as much distance between her and the man who was crouching outside of the door.

It was the sad man holding a bowl of food out to her. There was no fork or spoon.

“No thanks,” she bit out.

He sighed and set the bowl down in the seat before he got up and shut the door, walking away. Anna stared after him until he disappeared inside one of the tents. Looking at the food, she saw that it was a steaming bowl of chili, and her stomach growled again. Another lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed hard. She needed to keep her strength up if she was ever going to get out of here.

Slowly, she took the bowl and carefully sipped on the hot meal until it was gone and her stomach was full. By then, the sad man was heading back to the car, this time carrying a rolled up sleeping bag. She didn’t jump this time when he opened the door. He held his hand out for the bowl. She passed it to him, careful not to touch him, and retreated to the other side of the car.

He looked inside the bowl and gave a nod before passing her the sleeping bag. Then he stood and closed the door. Quickly as she could, Anna undid the sleeping bag and wrapped it around her body. After a few minutes, she began to warm up, her shivers dissipating.

Peering through the windows, Anna watched as the men began to retreat to their tents, only a few remaining around the small fires dotted around the camp and, for the most part at least, consumed in their own conversations. No one was on the right side of the car and no one was watching her.

As deftly as she could muster, Anna slid over to the right-side door, intent on going the way they’d come to try and find her way. Painfully slow, Anna pulled on the handle and pushed the door open, begging whatever god was listening for it to not creak. She opened it just enough that she could slip out and crouch, gently replacing the door but not closing it.

Looking around, it seemed that no one had noticed her movement. She crept toward the trees, periodically glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. The moment she passed the first tree, she broke out into a sprint, running as far as her lungs would carry her until she just couldn’t breathe.

She leaned against a tree, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as she cursed the man for taking her inhaler. She clasped her hands behind her head to try and open up her airways. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out and she dropped her hands, her fingers finding her left wrist, a frown crossing her face.

Shaking her head, Anna stood straight, looking around for the right way to go. If only she had some sort of idea as to where she was, she could find the highway. That’s where they’d go. To the place where they had left the supplies for Sophia.

Looking up, she could see the moon just through the trees.

_The moon rises in the east,_ Anna thought. _Everything rises in the east._

It was still early enough in the night that the moon was still low in the sky. She knew the highway was south of the farm, and she and Anderson had been making their way in that direction when she was intercepted. She figured she’d have to travel west a little way before she could start going south and toward the highway. So, that’s what she did.

If she could just get to the others, she’d be safe. She’d be with Daryl. That thought was the only thing that kept her going and the only thing that kept her from thinking about what had happened. She pushed it all away and focused on him.

But she could feel in the back of her head that nagging thought of _what if he hates you?_ She shook her head. She couldn’t worry about that now.

She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder to ensure she wasn’t being followed before she turned back around to continue her trek. As she passed a tall bush, she felt something wrap around her forearm and yank her to the side.

With a yelp she pushed back on whatever had grabbed her, looking to see a walker snapping its jaws at her face.

“Shit!”

She pushed back hard and shoved the walker into the bush as it lost its grip on her. With no way to defend herself, Anna turned to make a run for it, only to see three more walkers approaching from the other direction, attracted by the struggle.

Casting her eyes about for some way to escape, Anna darted to the left, dodging the reaching hands of the walkers as they closed in around her. She managed to slip between them and started back the way she’d come just a few paces before she made a sharp left turn.

She ran past a gathering of bushes, glancing over her shoulder to see the walkers shambling after her when she suddenly fell to the side, a heavy weight on top of her.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” A man hissed in her ear, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up.

She cried out in pain, only to be met with a hard slap to the face. She squeezed her eyes shut at the headache forming in her scalp. When she opened them again, she saw three men taking out the four walkers that had been following her.

“She bit?” One man asked as he wiped the walker blood off his blade.

“Don’t think so,” the man holding her by the hair said. “Get up,” he snapped.

She stumbled to her feet and he began to check her over, unnecessarily touching her in a few uncomfortable places before he was satisfied.

“She’s good,” he said, shoving her toward the others. “Let’s get her back to camp.”


	2. 02

Anna curled up against the door, shivering against the cold as she pulled the sleeping bag closer over her body. After the men had returned her to camp, they’d placed her back in the car and left, posting a guard outside. Nothing else was done the rest of the night.

At first, she worried herself about what was going to be done to her, and was unable to sleep. But when mid-afternoon hit and the only thing that happened was that guy bringing her food, she began to wonder if anything would happen at all. Lulled into a sense of security, Anna began to nod off, her eyes tired and drooping. She snapped to attention when the right car door popped open. She pressed herself against the left door as the leader slid into the backseat beside her.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he cooed. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just have a question.”

Anna furrowed her brow, feeling her body relax.

“What?” She asked.

“What’s your name?”

Her frown deepened and she opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, choosing instead to glare at him.

“What’s your name? That’s all I want to know,” the man said. “Here, I’ll even tell you mine. I’m Isaac.”

_Isaac._ She didn’t think she’d ever forget that name, or his face, or the back of this damn car.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Anna said.

Isaac pursed his lips, pouting, and then sighed.

“I’d hoped you’d be more cooperative,” he said.

Anna clenched her jaw, flinching as he reached for her. He tugged the sleeping bag off her body and slid out of the backseat. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling an icy breeze blow through the open door just before Isaac slammed it shut and walked off, carrying the sleeping bag with him.

* * *

It had been an hour since Isaac had taken the sleeping bag. Anna was curled up on her side, trying to stay warm. She was grateful it wasn’t colder outside, but she wasn’t sure how long that would last. She hoped she’d manage to escape before winter came.

She heard muffled talking just outside and glanced over her shoulder to see the man who had tackled her last night talking to the guard. The guard nodded and walked off before the man pulled the door open and sat down.

“Sit up and turn around,” he ordered.

Anna forced herself to sit up but refused to turn away from him, glaring at him as he sighed heavily.

“Isaac said you were stubborn,” he huffed.

Without warning, he lashed out, his hand striking her hard in the nose. She heard the crack before she felt the searing pain. She screamed before he covered her mouth with his hand and forced her onto her stomach. Tears streaked down her face, mixing with the blood from her nose. His hand left her mouth as he straddled her, pulling the cloth over her eyes and holding it tight.

“Stop!” She cried.

Her heart stopped when she heard the sound of his belt buckle jingling.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered roughly in her ear.

She felt his fingers dig under the waistband of her jeans and begin tugging them down. She felt her heart swelling in her throat. The cloth pressed hard against her eyes. She couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” she choked. “Please, stop.”

The weight came off her, the cloth falling loose around her neck. She blinked at the sudden light, gasping for air. She pushed herself up, turning around to stare out the open door, black spots in her vision. The man was scrambling to his feet, Isaac standing over him.

“Broad daylight? Really?” Isaac asked calmly. He turned, looking around at the men who had gathered. “No one touches her, is that understood?”

“But—” the man huffed as he redid his belt. “What’s the point of having her if—”

“No one touches her,” Isaac repeated, harsher this time. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The man’s jaw flexed as he glared at Isaac, seeming to weigh his options.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I do.”

Isaac took a breath and exhaled heavily as he shook his head.

“I guess I’ve been too lenient. Oh well, nothing for it,” he said.

Faster than Anna could register and before anyone could react, Isaac pulled out a gun and fired a single shot into the man’s chest. The man fell back, landing on the ground with a hard thud. Anna stared wide-eyed at the man for a moment before turning her attention back to Isaac.

“Does anyone else have a problem?” He asked.

No one said a word.

“Good. Take care of that,” he said, gesturing to the body.

He turned toward the car and walked over. Anna scooted back, pressing herself into the closed door as Isaac held the other door open, peering inside at her.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

Anna clenched her jaw, wiping at the wetness on her face, smearing the blood over her cheek. After a long moment, she nodded.

He smiled warmly and stepped back, going to close the door.

“My name is Anna,” she said quickly and he paused, his smile growing before he shut the door and walked away.

Through the window, Anna could see the others gather the man from the ground and carry him off.


	3. 05

Pulling the sleeping bag closer around her body, Anna curled up in the backseat, trying to fall asleep as the sun fell lower in the sky. It had been a couple days since Isaac saved her from that man. No one had tried to attack her since he’d killed him. She supposed they were too afraid of him. She wondered if their fear of him was a good thing.

He’d returned the sleeping bag, reset her nose, given her food, and allowed her outside of the car to relieve herself—all while under guard. He had one hard rule for her; she had to wear the blindfold when she was outside of the car unless told otherwise. Anna decided she’d play along until he trusted her and she could get away. That’s all she wanted—escape, and to find Daryl and the others.

The back door opened and the sad man held out a granola bar. Anna sat up and took it. She opened it, taking a few bites as she pulled her knees up to her chest. The sad man leaned against the car, waiting for her to finish eating before handing her a small water bottle.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

She took a swig of the water and pulled up her blindfold before scooting out of the car and allowing the man to take her by the elbow. He led her through the camp along a path which was quickly growing familiar until the sounds of the camp were distant and he pulled them to a stop.

“Take off your blindfold,” he said.

Anna froze. This wasn’t how things usually went.

“Take off your blindfold,” he repeated calmly.

Hesitantly, Anna pulled the blindfold down around her neck and blinked. She was standing behind a tree and a bush. Set up against the tree was a little table and a chair. Atop the table was a large bowl filled with steaming water and a cloth and a bar of soap, and on the chair was a stack of folded clothes and a towel.

“Wash up and change,” he said.

Anna looked between him and the setup, confused. He turned his back to her, folding his arms over his chest.

“What is this?” Anna asked, slowly removing her shirt, shivering against the cool air.

He said nothing, but she could see his jaw ticking. She washed her torso, the warm water quickly cooling against her skin. When she was done with her torso, she removed her pants. Once finished, she dried off and pulled on the fresh undergarments and clothes—a long-sleeved gray shirt, and a pair of jeans that pinched her hips—shoving her freshly socked feet into her boots.

“Your hair, too,” the man said.

Anna frowned.

“It’s too cold,” she said.

“Isaac’s orders,” he said.

Anna sighed heavily and began to wash her hair as best as she could with the water, using the soap to scrub out the oils, sweat, and dirt. Finally, she wrapped the towel around her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Put the blindfold back on.”

She did as he said and he took her by the elbow, leading her back the way they had come and into the car again. He shut her inside and she pulled the blindfold back down, looking around to see what was going on. The sad man ducked inside his tent. The others were gathered around their campfires or going about their business. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

There was movement in her peripheral and she turned to see Isaac stepping out of his tent. The guard glanced over his shoulder before opening the door to the car.

“Let’s go,” he grumbled.

Anna scrambled to put her blindfold back on as he tugged her out of the car. He snatched the towel from her head, tugging hard on the hair that was wrapped in it before it fell wet and cold around her shoulders.

He led her around the car and she heard the rustle of a tent flap being moved aside. He let go of her arm and the tent flap rustled back into place.

“You can take it off,” Isaac said from beside her.

Anna pulled down the blindfold, her skin prickling in the cold. The tent was meticulously clean, a cot against one wall and a table against the other with two chairs and a lantern in the center. There was even a rug in the middle of the tent.

“Have a seat,” Isaac said, gesturing to the chair closest to the tent flap as he sat in the other.

Slowly, Anna sat down, hunching over to hold onto some modicum of warmth as she hugged herself. She rubbed her arms, shivering as she looked across the table at Isaac.

“So,” he began, “what were you doing out there?” Isaac asked.

Anna swallowed, unsure if she should answer.

“I was running from the dead,” she finally said, deciding that was safe.

“How did you survive? You must have had a group? What happened to them?” He pushed.

“I was alone when you found me,” Anna said.

“Doesn’t mean much,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You could’ve been separated.”

“What does it matter?” Anna asked.

The corner of Isaac’s lips twitched upwards and he carefully combed his hair back.

“We had a run-in with another group not too long ago,” he explained, adjusting his seating. “They killed a few of ours. I just wanted to make sure we didn’t have anything to worry about.”

Anna pressed her lips together. She dropped her hands to her thighs and let her fingers find purchase on her left thigh, pinching down to calm her nerves.

“No,” she said. “I wasn’t with a group.”

“You’re lying.”

Anna frowned at him, opening her mouth to defend herself when he shook his head.

“I don’t like liars, Annie,” he said.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted.

“Then tell me how you survived out there all on your own, Annie.”

“It’s Anna,” she said, grinding her teeth.

“I know what your name is,” he said flippantly. “I suggest you tell me the truth.”

“I am telling—”

Isaac shot out of his chair, reaching over the table to grab her by the shirt, and yanked her out of her chair. She gasped as he threw her to the ground before kneeling over her, grabbing her hair and pulling her head up to look at him.

“I don’t like liars,” he hissed in her face. “Now you’re going to be a good girl and tell me the truth or you’re gonna see what happens when you misbehave.”

Anna stared wide-eyed at him, trying to catch her breath. His hazel eyes stared back at her. There was something in them—something she couldn’t quite describe, but it sent a chill down her spine that wasn’t from the cold.

“Please, I’m telling the truth,” she whimpered, trying to tug his hand out of her hair only for him to tighten his grip.

A wicked grin spread across his face and he stood, pulling her up with him before he shoved her toward the cot. She caught herself, a sharp pain shooting up from her wrist. Ignoring it, Anna turned back to glare at Isaac, only to be met with a hard slap to the face.

“Were you with a group?” He asked.

“No,” she breathed, holding her stinging face.

She cried out as a fist struck her in the spine, knocking the wind out of her before Isaac grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her back.

“Annie, tell the truth,” he said.

She desperately gulped for breath, unable to speak before his fist connected with her face. The side of her head exploded with pain.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, striking her again and again, his voice far too calm.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Yes what?” He asked.

“I—I was with—a group,” she panted, cowering beneath him. “I was with a group.”

“What happened to them?”

“I don’t know—” he raised his hand and she flinched. “Please!” She sobbed. “I don’t know, I was separated from them when the farm was overrun by walkers.”

He lowered his hand.

“I got away with my friend, but he was bitten,” she said, tears streaking down her face. “I don’t know where the others are.”

Isaac crouched down in front of her, gently brushing the hair away from her throbbing face. He smiled kindly at her.

“Good girl.”


	4. 11

Beneath the sleeping bag, Anna held her knees to her chest with one arm, pressing the back of her head into the cold window. She peered out the back window, watching as the men of the camp went about their day. With her free hand, she dug her nails through the fabric of her jeans, pinching hard on her thigh, focusing on the sharp pain rather than the harsh ache of everything else.

She was damp from her wash, her hair sticking to her skin like frost, and she waited for the guard to lead her to Isaac’s tent. She knew what that washing meant, now. She’d been at the camp for eleven days, and this was the fourth time. Each time, Isaac would ask her a question. If he thought she was lying or hiding anything, it would be much the same as the first time—and Anna had never been particularly good at lying.

All he had wanted so far was basic information, but with every tidbit she gave him, the guilt built up in her chest. She supposed it didn’t matter, though. The others probably thought she was dead.

The problem was, whenever she went to his tent, he’d ask her about the others and about herself, but she couldn’t fathom what else she could possibly tell him. She’d spent the better part of the last five minutes trying to come up with some way to avoid another beating.

The guard glanced over his shoulder and opened the car door. Anna placed the cloth over her eyes and allowed him to lead her to Isaac’s tent. She stood still, listening to the rustling of the tent flap.

“Take it off.”

Anna removed the cloth. Isaac sat in the chair, one hand drumming gently on the table as he eyed her with his appraising look. Her bracelet shined around his wrist in the lantern light. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, brushing a bit of damp hair behind her ear as she cast her eyes to the ground.

She heard Isaac get out of his chair. She watched from beneath her eyelashes as he moved to the cot and pulled a wooden box from under it. He took off the lid and removed a glass bottle of amber liquid and a single tumbler before returning to sit at the table.

“Look at me,” Isaac instructed.

Furrowing her brow, Anna brought her eyes up to look at him. He poured himself a drink of the alcohol, the faded label reading _The Balvenie_.

“Were you ever romantically involved with any of the people in your group? Anderson maybe?” Isaac asked, setting the bottle down and taking a swig from his glass.

“What? No,” Anna sputtered. “Anderson was just my friend.”

“But were you involved with anyone?” He asked, gazing at her over the rim of the glass.

Anna bit her tongue.

“Let me guess,” he smirked, holding up his hand as he got to his feet. “Some guy saved you—maybe from one of those deadies—and you fell head-over-heels for him.”

Anna clenched her jaw as he circled around to stand behind her.

"I saved your life,” Isaac pointed out. “You would have died out there if it weren’t for me.”

_Some hero,_ she thought bitterly as she recalled that first day as he stood over her.

She jumped as his fingers brushed up the center of her back, tugging gently at her hair before sliding back down and wrapping around her waist.

“And now you owe me,” Isaac said quietly in her ear, his thumb pushing up the hem of her shirt so that he could trace a circle into her skin. “Take off your clothes,” he commanded, stepping around her so that he stood in front of her, watching and waiting.

“No,” Anna said firmly, her body rigid as her mind reeled.

“I wasn’t asking,” he said.

She didn’t move, choosing instead to glare defiantly back at him. He sighed, an amused smile spreading across his face as he shook his head.

“I’m giving you a choice here, Annie,” he said. “You can do as you're told—make things easier for everyone involved—or, we can do this the hard way which, mind you, is still fun for me. Either way,” he said, gesturing toward her.

Anna inhaled sharply; her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“No,” she said again.

Isaac pouted his lips for a moment before his face lit up. Anna jumped back as he quickly moved past her, leaning through the tent flap.

“You. Come here,” he called.

A moment later, Isaac returned to stand in front of her as the sad man entered the tent.

“Stand here,” Isaac ordered, pointing to the floor just to his right.

The man did as instructed.

“Annie,” Isaac said. “Take off your clothes.”

“No,” Anna said harshly, glancing at the man.

Isaac grinned.

Anna gasped as Isaac lashed out, striking the man in the gut, forcing him to double over with a huff.

“Take off your clothes,” he repeated.

“N-no,” Anna said, looking frantically between Isaac and the man. “What are you doing?”

Isaac struck again, his fist colliding with the man's face, knocking him to the ground.

“Stop!” Anna cried.

“Then do as you’re told,” Isaac said.

The man pushed himself to his feet, his cheek a bright red from the impact. Anna reached out to him, only for Isaac to smack her hand back. She considered turning and running out of the tent, but she knew the men outside would be waiting for her.

“Now, Annie,” Isaac said just before slamming his fist against the man’s face again and again.

“All right!” Anna shouted. “All right,” she said again as Isaac straightened, brushing his hair out of his face.

With trembling hands, Anna reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head, dropping it to the ground. The man stood, wiping the blood from his lip and starting for the exit.

“Stay,” Isaac said, and the man stopped. “Enjoy the show.”

Anna glared at Isaac, ignoring the tears that were building up behind her lids and the sharp ache in her chest as she continued to remove her sports bra, covering her chest with her hands. Isaac waved his hand for her to go on. Hesitantly, she undid her pants and pushed them and her underwear down her legs, and stepped out of her boots. She straightened, covering herself and shivering.

“Hands at your sides, please,” Isaac said mockingly.

Staring at the tent wall behind Isaac’s head, Anna pinned her arms at her sides, her tears finally falling.

“Don’t be like that, Annie,” Isaac crooned, starting toward her.

She flinched as he reached up and drew his fingers across her collarbone, then down between her breasts. He continued to slide his hand across her skin as he moved around her, his eyes roaming over her. He paused and tsked.

“What’s this?” Isaac asked, his hand dropping down to her right thigh.

Anna hissed as Isaac’s finger poked the fresh sore spot on her thigh before he touched the rest of the half-moon scars.

“Do you see these?” Isaac asked the man.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the man staring off to the side, his face red and brow furrowed, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Pathetic,” Isaac said coolly. “Get on the cot.”

Anna began to shake uncontrollably, her legs cement.

“Annie,” Isaac said, a warning to his tone.

She forced herself to move and sit down on the cot. The sad man stood like a statue. He could help her. Why wasn’t he helping her?

“On your back, Annie,” he ordered. “And don’t close your eyes.”


	5. 14

Her whole body was sore. Every ragged breath she took made her want to vomit. Her chest was tight, like someone was sitting on it. With a groan, she used the front seat to pull herself into a sitting position. With shaking hands, she scratched her face where the itchy cloth covered her eyes.

The door opened suddenly and she froze, dropping her hand immediately. She waited and listened for whoever it was.

“Breakfast,” came a voice.

Her body relaxed—as much as it could. Slowly, she lowered her blindfold to see the sad man holding out an energy bar. It was only him. Still, she was cautious in taking the energy bar, keeping her eyes on him as she tore open the wrapper. She ate the bar so quickly she almost didn’t notice the way it tasted like chalk.

“You shouldn’t eat so fast—you’ll get sick,” he warned gently.

She swallowed the last bite and crumbled the wrapper in her hand.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, her voice scratchy.

The man sighed but nodded, gesturing for her to put her blindfold back on as he stepped away to allow her to climb out of the car.

She replaced the cloth over her eyes and stepped out of the car, her boots crunching on the cold ground.

“She has to go,” he explained to the man posted as her guard.

“Whatever.”

She felt the sad man’s hand wrap around her arm, his touch light as he led her blindly through the same path they always took when she had to relieve herself. He pulled her to a stop when they reached their destination.

Without taking off her blindfold, Anna undid her pants and pulled them down, hoping the man had enough decency to at least look away. Once she was done, and had waited a moment, she pulled up her pants and stood straight.

“All right let’s go back,” he said.

She allowed him to lead her back, dragging her feet to relish the time outside of the car just a little bit longer. He didn’t force her to move faster. He never did.

The man leading her paused.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

She nodded and after a moment, she heard the car door open. Feeling with her hands, she climbed inside, and the door shut behind her. She curled up on her side, wrapping her arms around herself to try and stave off the cold and keep her body from breaking apart as she sobbed.


	6. 17

Anna’s leg bounced as she rubbed her thighs to try to warm them. She pressed her back into the seat, taking deep, ragged breaths. Her chest and throat hurt and her head pounded. She was sick, but she didn’t know what from. A chill ran through her, and she pulled the sleeping bag over her.

Anna looked over her shoulder to see the guard leaning against the car, wiping at his face. It was late, getting close to the end of his shift. He was tired. She scooted to the door and knocked on the window. He grimaced over his shoulder at her and popped open the door.

“What?” He asked.

“I have to go,” she said.

“You can wait,” he snapped.

“I can’t,” she said, shifting her legs for good measure.

He sighed heavily and gestured for her to put her blindfold on as he stepped away from the door. She began to climb out of the car, lifting the blindfold. Before she covered her eyes, she saw the gun on his hip.

With a steadying breath, Anna lunged forward and grabbed the gun, shoving him back as she tore it out of its holster.

“What the hell!” He shouted.

Without really aiming, she fired. He cried out and fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to see where she’d hit him as she turned and ran. Anna didn’t care which way she went, so long as it was away.

Her heart raced as she ran, shouting following her. She clutched the gun in her hand, aiming blindly behind her and firing two shots. Her feet caught and she fell forward, landing hard. Anna gasped desperately for air, trying to force herself to her feet, but her body wouldn’t move, and she could hear the men catching up to her.

“You sure can run, girl,” one man said, panting as he kicked the gun out of her hand.

She glared up at him when she saw movement. Isaac stepped through the other men and frowned down at her.

“We talked about this, Annie,” he said, disappointed. “Get her up.”

The man grabbed her arm and hauled her up, dragging her along as they made their way back to camp. She was surprised to see how far she’d actually made it. The guard she’d shot was lying on the ground, clutching his leg as the sad man tended to it.

“That little bitch shot me,” the guard snapped.

“Get him to his tent and patch him up,” Isaac ordered.

The sad man helped up the guard and led him off as Isaac turned back to Anna.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Annie,” he said. “And what happens when we’ve been bad?”

Anna narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Isaac stepped toward her until he was in her face.

“What happens when we’ve been bad?” He asked again, quieter.

Still, she said nothing. Isaac chuckled, looking away for a split second before he backhanded her. The man holding her allowed her to fall to the ground. Isaac stared down at her, his face expressionless and eyes empty. He looked to the others.

“Go ahead,” he said, turning and walking towards his tent, stopping only briefly at the car to take her sleeping bag.

Anna stared after him, watching as he disappeared within. Then, someone yanked her up by the arm.

“No!” Anna shrieked as she was led toward the car, struggling and kicking. “No!”

She was tossed unceremoniously into the back seat. With nowhere else to go, Anna scrambled to the other side of the car, squeezing herself onto the floor behind the driver’s seat. She stared wide-eyed and terrified as one of the men climbed in after her.


	7. 25

“Twenty-five.” Anna whispered to herself, her teeth chattering. She repeated it over and over. “Today is day twenty-five.”

That number was everything to her from the moment light filtered through the itchy cloth over her eyes, and it would be everything until the light faded into the blackness.

Then twenty-six would be everything.

She clung to the number hanging in the frigid air. Anna wasn’t sure exactly when she decided to keep count of the days she spent in Hell. But it helped. It reminded her that she was still alive. It gave her the illusion that one day it would all be over. One way or another. It would end.

She focused on the seat-belt buckle that dug into her hip. It anchored her to reality—as if she wanted to stay there, anyway. No matter how she adjusted her body, she only found herself uncomfortable. Hell wasn’t supposed to be comfortable.

The sound of the car door opening broke the quiet. Her moment of peace, no matter how small, was over.

“Good morning!” Called a male voice.

Anna kicked her legs, trying to push herself away from the cold air filling the cabin of the broken-down car that had been her prison for twenty-five days. Her breathing was labored, her chest constricting around her lungs.

She wasn’t running from the man, though. She’d learned better than that. Running only made it worse. At this point, Anna just didn’t want to be cold. Why add unnecessary inconveniences to the mix.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We won’t be long,” the voice assured, his cold fingers creeping up her legs. She heard the familiar sound of hands fumbling with a buckle.

“Be a good girl,” he muttered.

* * *

Anna laid on her back staring at the roof of the car. She couldn’t quite bring herself to move as she tried to ignore the pain she was in, reciting _twenty-five_ in her head over and over again. It was all she had now.

Her fingers found her left wrist, feeling the spot where her bracelet used to rest. She hadn’t had it for very long, but she felt empty without it. It was the only thing she had tying her to Evan and Anderson. She felt another round of sobs at the thought of them and she rolled onto her side before pushing herself up, wiping at the tears that escaped down her cheeks.

Escape. That’s what she needed. Some way to get out this damn car and away from these monsters. And her only hope was him. The sad man who never touched her.

She watched through the foggy window as he approached the car. He always looked so guilty when he came to her, and there were always dark bags under his eyes. She figured he slept about as much as she did.

He pulled the car door open, and she put her blindfold up before climbing out. His hand found her arm and he led her through the camp. When he stopped her, she went to undo her pants.

“Take off your blindfold,” he instructed.

She froze. With shaking hands, she slid the cloth down until it hung from her neck. Her whole body began to tremble as she removed her clothes. From the corner of her eye, she could see the man turning his back. She picked up the rag and dipped it into the water. It was still warm from being heated over a fire. She took the bar of soap and began to lather it against the rag and she began to clean herself.

“You don’t like this,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I can see it in your face every time you get me.”

“Don’t,” he said, though uncertain.

“Please, just let me go,” she pleaded as she set the cloth down and began to dress in the clean clothes. “You don’t want this.”

“Neither of us have a choice,” he said weakly.

“We do,” she insisted. “There’s always a choice.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. She watched as he bowed and shook his head, sighing heavily. Finally, he turned back to her, a deep, sad frown on his face.

“I can’t,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “Put your blindfold back on.”

Anna felt herself deflate. Dejected, she put the blindfold back on and he led her back to the car. Once inside, she pulled her knees to her chest and dug her nails into her thigh as tears slid down her face, not bothering to take the blindfold off.


	8. 30

_Anna sat in the field, watching the sun slowly fall toward the horizon. It was a warm day, and a cool breeze was blowing gently over her skin, rustling her hair around her shoulders. She felt a hand brush against hers. Turning her head, she smiled at Daryl sitting beside her. His hand slipped into hers and he gave a light squeeze. She returned the squeeze, looking back at the sunset._

Jolting awake, Anna felt rough hands pawing at the waistband of her jeans. She didn’t bother looking. It didn’t matter anymore.

The men didn’t seem to care when she slipped her blindfold over her eyes so she could pretend to be somewhere else.

Anywhere else.


	9. 36

Anna stared at the tear in the tent wall, watching a small thread wiggle in the frigid breeze. She listened to the whistling of the breeze, focused on the feel of it on her shoulder. Then, Isaac grabbed her chin, squeezing it as he turned her head.

“Look at me,” he grunted, letting go of her.

Her head fell back to the side and she continued to look at the tear.

“Annie,” he huffed, grabbing her chin again.

She allowed him to turn her head, but she looked past him at the ceiling. She didn’t want to look at him. She couldn’t.

“Dammit, Annie. Look at me,” he hissed.

She said nothing. He hit her hard across the face, adding to the bruises she already had dotting her whole body. Still, she didn’t look at him.

“You know what?” Isaac asked, sitting back and reaching for something on the floor. “I think, secretly, you like being punished.”

Anna glanced down to see him produce a familiar knife. Her heart slammed against her chest, recognizing her hunting knife—Evan’s hunting knife.

Isaac twirled the knife in his hands, pressing his finger lightly against the tip.

“I actually think this one might be pretty funny,” he grinned.

Anna shot up, only to be shoved back. She reached out, trying to grab his hand holding the knife. He smacked her and laid over her chest, using his free hand to hold her face, his nails digging into her cheeks as he brought the knife to the right side of her face.

She gave an unintelligible cry, something between ‘stop’ and ‘don’t’ as tears slipped down her face. Unable to reach his hands, Anna clawed at his skin wherever she could land. He laughed, seeming not to notice.

The pinch of the blade pressing into her right temple was sharp and harsh, eliciting a yelp. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Look at me, Annie.”

Anna opened her mouth to scream as he dragged the blade down, her pain muffled by his hand covering her mouth.

“Open your eyes.”

Her eyes snapped open. She stared at him as he continued to drag it down, curving it to the top of her cheek. Anna’s horror mounted at the look of absolute glee on his face as he withdrew the blade and his other hand, sitting back.

He panted and she gasped for breath, flinching as he leaned forward and touched the hot blood flowing from the gash he’d left, and smeared it across her face. She simply stared at him, unable to help the tears that poured from her eyes, mixing with the blood.

Finally, he climbed off her, tossing the knife onto the table and pulling up his pants.

“Get dressed and go clean yourself up,” Isaac said, turning his back to her as he poured himself a glass of scotch. “Damaged goods, damaged packaging.”

Anna laid there a moment, shaking. After she’d caught her breath, she rose from the cot and pulled her clothes on, walking numbly out of the tent as she pulled her blindfold up. There was hesitation from the guard before he took her by the elbow and led her back to the car. A few minutes later, she was given a wet cloth to clean up.


	10. 37

Anna pressed herself into the seat, the buckle digging into her side. Her body shivered as she rubbed at her face, nudging the cloth over her eyes. The back of the car only provided so much protection from the winter elements. Her muscles ached and she was constantly fighting a battle with her lungs. But being sick was the least of her worries.

The car door opened, letting in a rush of frigid air. She scrambled backwards, blindly grabbing at the driver's seat to pull herself up, her back hitting the other door.

“Don’t be like that, Annie,” cooed Isaac, his fingers brushing against her shin.

Her heart plummeted at the sound of his voice. She felt the car dip under Isaac’s weight as he climbed into the back seat beside her, the door quietly shutting them inside the broken-down car.

“I just want to talk,” he assured, resting his hand on her knee. “You aren’t still mad about yesterday, are you?”

_Mad_ as if they had merely gotten into a lovers spat over who’s turn it was to do the dishes. _Mad_ like he hadn’t taken her own knife and dragged the tip of the blade through her skin, then smeared the blood over her face like some sort of death mask.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice deceptively gentle. “So I can see you.”

Anna hastily lowered the blindfold, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric hanging loose around her neck. She forced her eyes to stay open as he brushed his thumb along the lower edge of the fresh gash running from her right temple to the top of her cheekbone.

“I hope you understand why I had to,” Isaac sighed. “You do understand, right?

“Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“I wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s right. But you will listen from now on, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

She sucked in a breath, flinching as he grabbed her chin. Hot tears escaped down her cheeks. She let out a shuddering exhale—she could see it in the air between them.

“That’s a good girl,” he grinned. “And you know what good girls get?”

Anna tensed as he reached into his pocket.

“They get rewarded.” He held out his hand, his smile widening. “Give me your hand.”

She held up her left hand, visibly shaking as she waited, staring at his face. Anna didn’t think she’d ever forget it.

Cold metal wrapped around her wrist and she looked down to see Isaac adjusting the silver bracelet so that she could see the engraved plate.

_May you live all the days of your life. –Jonathan Swift_

Anna’s chest constricted at the sight of it. It had been thirty-seven days since he’d taken it from her.

"Well?” Isaac asked. “What do we say?”

Anna licked her cracked lips, prepared to let the lie roll off of her tongue.

“Th—”

“Isaac!”

Isaac groaned and shoved the door open. “I’ll be right back.” He shut the car door behind him.

Anna turned in her seat to look out the back window and saw a group of five armed soldiers standing at the edge of camp. Isaac and the soldier at the front of the group began speaking back and forth, their voices a mere mumble through the windows. Isaac had several of his own men around him—enough to outnumber the strangers, but not enough to give away just how many people he had on his side. There were more in the surrounding woods.

She watched as people on both sides casually hefted their weapons. She imagined screaming for help, imagined throwing the car door open and running towards the soldiers. But instead, she rested her head on the back of the seat. All she could bring herself to hope for was a few more minutes alone.

Anna closed her eyes and took a strained inhale of cold air. She was just so tired.

_POP!_

She jumped at the rifle fire, and instinctively threw herself to the floor and covered her head. She heard glass break and shouting as bullets flew back and forth.

The car shook as someone fell against it and the door ripped open. She looked up to see the sad man, panic on his face. He was the man who brought her food the past 37 days.

“Come on!” He hissed, holding out his hand for her. “Come on!”

Anna didn’t move. The man looked over his shoulder before reaching into the car and yanking her from the floor. She struggled to get her feet under herself, and tried to pull her arm from his grip. She looked around the camp and saw the scramble for safety as the soldiers and her captors fired on each other.

And then she saw him. Isaac was sprawled out on the ground, the side of his jacket blooming with blood. He lay unmoving and she couldn’t see steam rising from his lips.

“Come on!” The man snapped, pulling her behind him as they ran into the woods.

Their boots crunched over the dead leaves and branches as they ran between the trees, the gunfire fading in the distance until it stopped altogether. Anna’s entire body protested against the effort until she finally collapsed to the ground.

“Get up!” The man ordered, pulling her to her feet.

“I can’t—” she gasped. “I can’t—breathe,” she choked out, her chest and throat tightening.

He quickly reached into his pocket, fumbling inside until he pulled out a blue inhaler and pushed it into her hands.

Anna wasted no time in bringing it to her lips, pushing down on it twice and holding her breath, feeling the medicine settle into her lungs before she exhaled. She took several slow breaths, waiting for her airways to open up as much as they could.

“Why?” She croaked, narrowing her eyes at the man.

She’d only seen him when he brought her food, took her to relieve herself, or wash—and she never learned his name. But now he was making a run for it—with her.

He shook his head, “We need to keep moving—there’s a neighborhood not too far from here.”

He started walking, this time not bothering to drag Anna behind him. Reluctantly, she followed him anyway, tucking the inhaler into her pocket.

As they walked, she noticed the way he struggled to keep upright, pushing himself up against trees every once and awhile. In the distance, she could see rooftops past the dead trees. Finally, he stopped and leaned against a tree.

“Just need a second,” he said.

“Why?” Anna asked again.

"Why what?” He huffed, scanning the direction they’d come. “Why do I need to rest? Or why did I come back for you?”

Anna said nothing as she looked at her feet where a jagged rock rested, roughly a little bigger than her hand.

“I had to. I couldn’t just leave you behind,” he said.

“Why?” Anna asked once more, looking back at him. His eyes were closed.

“They would have killed you. Those soldiers—” he took a shuddering breath and shook his head. His face was drained of color and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Anna knelt down and took the rock in her hands, feeling the jagged edges against her skin. The stone was cool to the touch and she couldn’t help but stare in amazement at it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched a piece of the Earth.

“Can you take a look at this?” The young man asked.

She looked to him as he pulled up his jacket and shirt to reveal a bullet hole in his side.

“Shit,” he hissed, letting himself slide to the ground.

Anna approached and crouched in front of him. He was the same age as her brother—if he was still alive. She looked to the bullet wound, then to his face.

“Why?” She asked, her voice quiet. He looked at her, confused.

“I—”

“Why didn’t you stop them?”

He stared at her for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the tree. His lip began to tremble.

“I couldn’t,” he whispered. “I couldn’t. They—” he let out a sob. “They would have killed me. But—” He took a deep breath. “I helped you. I saved you. You’re alive. That’s got to count for some—”

Anna slammed the rock into the center of his face, cutting him off. Blood spurted out of his nose. She pulled back and slammed it into his face again, the back of his head cracking against the tree. He grabbed at her wrist before falling over.

She didn’t let up, yanking her wrist from his grasp and clutching the rock with both hands as she brought it down on him over and over again. Blindly, he tried to push her away from him and crawl back, but she sat on him, pressing her knee into his stomach and continued her flurry of blows.

Finally, he fell limp and she dropped the rock one last time against his forehead. Panting and aching she stared at his bloodied face.

“It doesn’t count for shit,” she hissed.

A snarl from the left called her attention as a small crowd of the undead shambled through the trees. She got to her feet and backed away. There were too many for her to handle in her weakened state. All she could do now was run.

Anna Wycoff was perhaps the last person anyone would think to find in the middle of Georgia on a crisp winter day, running down the street of an abandoned neighborhood that resembled what was probably once a delightful place to live. But there she was, forcing her way into a two-story, cookie-cutter house with a herd of the undead following the scent of her icy sweat and the sounds of her thumping heart and huffing breaths.

Slamming the door behind her, Anna took the moment to pull her inhaler out of her pocket. She brought it to her lips to soothe the aching in her lungs made worse by the frigid air, but no medicine came out. She cursed, shaking it before trying again – still nothing. Anna looked on the back to find that her puff amount was now at zero. 

“Shit.” She hissed, tossing the inhaler to the side.

Raising her arms, she clasped her hands behind her head and began to pace, taking long deep breaths. Anna muttered to herself, trying to calm down and come up with a plan of escape, but nothing came to mind. She could feel panic building up in the pit of her stomach, clenching her throat. But now was not the time to lose her head.

Squaring her shoulders, she stood straight – her arms hanging firm at her sides. She stared hard at the opposite wall, fighting the tears that were building up behind her bottom lids.

“I. Am. Fine,” she seethed.

Anna clenched her fists, focusing on her nails pushing into her palms. She felt like her head was underwater, and she could feel a few tears escape down her cheek.

_Escape. I need to escape._

A window shattered behind her, and Anna’s eyes snapped to a door that seemed tucked away from where she stood. Forcing her feet forward, she ripped the door open, and dashed out of the house and into the backyard. Without a second thought, Anna ran across the crunching dead grass and jumped onto the fence. The top of the wood panels scratched her palms as she used her momentum to swing her legs over to the other side. She let go too soon, however, and rolled her right ankle on the hard landing.

Biting back a scream of pain, she inhaled sharply through her nose. Anna rose and began jogging around a pool to a metal door that was placed in the ground. Pain seared up her leg, and her hand stung as air hit her palm. She didn’t bother glancing down – she didn’t have time to care if her palm had been sliced open on the fence. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt a bit of hope. Storm shelters provided safety from more than just dangerous weather.

A growl came to her attention, and she turned her head in time to be tackled by a corpse.  
She gasped as cold, muggy water hit her in the back. Her burning lungs filled with thick liquid. Anna struggled against her attacker blindly, eyes squeezed shut to prevent green and brown water from infecting them.

_Is this it?_ Anna thought to herself, feeling the hard floor of the pool press against her back, her ears popping from the water pressure. _Is this how I’m going to die?_

She stopped struggling. _Let this be the end._ She begged.

The next moment was a blur, she felt her back hit the hard ground as air forced its way into her lungs. She gasped, coughing up the ice-cold water. She stared at the overcast sky, not moving except for the heavy inhales and exhales, her breath coming out in plums of steam.

“You alive?”

Her dark eyes lazily turned to the man hovering over her, his clothes soaked. He’d jumped in to save her.

_Why?_

“Does it matter?” she croaked.

“Anna?”

Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head so that she could see who had called her name. The voice had sounded like a distant memory.

“Anna?” The woman asked, crouching beside her. She placed her gloved hands against Anna’s left cheek. “Is that really you?”

Anna’s vision flooded as she stared back at the woman, confusion and heart ache filling her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She refused. This was all a cruel dream.

As she fell unconscious against the cold ground the name slipped past her lips.

“Marley….”


	11. 00

When Anna opened her eyes again, she was staring at a tiled ceiling, fluorescent light shining in her face. She squinted past the light and cast her eyes about the room, wincing at the apparent pain radiating through her body.

_Where am I?_ She thought groggily. From what she could tell she was in some sort of infirmary with an IV sticking out of her arm and a hand-cuff around her wrist.

The sound of a hushed argument drew her attention to the open door which led out into a dark hallway. There she could see two figures standing with their heads bent close together.

“She can’t stay here. She’s useless. Look at her,” the male figure said, gesturing into the room.

“You owe me,” hissed the shorter female figure.

The male figure groaned, seeming to run his hand down his face. After a long pause he finally spoke.

“Fine. But, after this, Herring, we’re done. No more favors.”

The man jabbed his finger into the woman’s chest and stalked off. The woman watched after him before turning her head into the room. Anna didn’t bother to pretend she was asleep or hadn’t heard their poorly whispered fight.

“You’re awake,” the woman said, striding into the room as if she owned the place. Anna watched with abject astonishment as Marley Herring settled herself in the chair sat beside the bed, smiling back at her. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Anna scoffed.

“Not how I would describe it,” she said, her voice scratchy.

They stared at each other, assessing, waiting for the other to break first. In the end, it was Marley.

“I went to South Carolina first.”

Anna said nothing and made no outward reaction. Just waited.

“I couldn’t find your family. The house, it was….” She trailed off, averting her eyes.

Anna clenched her jaw, turning her gaze to the ceiling. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyelids. But, what was the use in crying? She’d known they were dead from the moment that automated voice told her they were _unavailable_.

“I thought you died with them.”

Anna glanced back at Marley who had begun to silently cry.

“I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Anna reached out for Marley’s hand, paused and pulled away.

“I wish I was.”


End file.
